


the bed song

by dev0n



Category: The Outsiders (1983), The Outsiders - All Media Types, The Outsiders - S. E. Hinton
Genre: (kinda), Angst with a Happy Ending, M/M, Songfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-05
Updated: 2015-11-07
Packaged: 2018-04-30 03:57:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,475
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5149409
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dev0n/pseuds/dev0n
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>you've talked about it a lot, but that's all you thought it was- talk. nobody ever got out of tulsa.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. exhibit a

Buck's is never quiet, but in the little room upstairs where Dallas stays sometimes, the drunken conversation and laughter and music are muffled. It's cold, but you're curled up against Dally's side under the covers, and that's really all you need, isn't it?

You can almost forget about the blooming bruise across your left cheek. Right over that pink, shiny new scar. You're glad it didn't split back open, at least.

Dally shifts, limbs slow and stiff with sleepiness; he presses a kiss down into your hair. His hand is rubbing your back up and down. It's nice; it's making you sleepy. Dally is never affectionate with anyone but you, and it makes you feel special.

"We're gonna get outta here, Johnny," he whispers against your hair. You tilt your head back and look up at him, brows furrowed. A silent question.

You've talked about it a lot, but that's all you thought it was- talk. Nobody ever got out of Tulsa.

"I got some cash saved up." You start to speak, but Dally answers your question before you can ask it. "Nevermind how I made it. It's enough for two bus tickets outta here and maybe a month's rent, if we can find someplace cheap."

You feel something warm and wet on your face, and you realize you're crying. You sit up on your elbow, one hand resting against Dally's cheek. He looks nervous, but he's smiling. "We're gonna get outta here," he repeats. He rests his hand over yours, brushing his thumb back and forth across your hand.

You kiss him.


	2. exhibit b

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> you are sleeping on a lumpy mattress in a filthy room in chicago and you are cold.

Barely a week after your talk, you and Dally slipped off into the night. You bought two one-way tickets to Chicago and neither of you looked back. You spent a couple nights sleeping on park benches and under bridges before Dally found you a place. It can hardly be called an apartment; it's one room, and the only furniture is the lumpy mattress and a table made of duct-taped milk crates. There's a bathroom partitioned off by a curtain and a fridge that hums too loud in the quiet of the night.

You and Dally have both found jobs. It's not much, general labor with shit pay, but it's better than nothing and it gives you something to do. You carefully square away as much of each check as you can.

You are sleeping on a lumpy mattress in a filthy room in Chicago and you are cold.

You have been in Chicago for a month, and Dally hasn't touched you since that night. You don't talk about it. Dally curls up on one side of the mattress, and you curl up on the other. Each with your own filthy, flat pillow and a scratchy, too-thin blanket.

You want to ask why he won't touch you. You want to ask if this is really any better than Buck's. Neither of you know anyone here. Back in Tulsa, at least you had the Curtises and the others. You miss them. You want to tell him that even though you miss your friends-- your friends that had become your family over the years- you would still follow him to Hell and back. You want to curl up against him again, share each other's warmth, whisper sweet promises to each other like you used to before. You want to tell Dally that you love him.

You pull your blanket tighter around you and close your eyes. He's asleep, you tell yourself. Maybe tomorrow night.


	3. exhibit c

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "you know, dallas," you say softly-- it's always 'dallas' now, not 'dally', and you're not sure when that happened- "maybe it would be better to get two mattresses tomorrow."

Dally starts going to bars after work. He gets home late, collapses into bed beside you without a word. He probably thinks you're asleep. But you can never fall asleep without knowing he's safe. He never touches you, and you rarely speak more than a few sentences to each other even when you're both home.

It takes you more than half a year to save up enough, but it's worth it. You're smiling- really smiling, for what feels like the first time in months- as you're given the keys to the apartment. It's a real nice one in a gated community, even has a pool. You and Dally stick out among the middle-class residents, but that's okay.

You and Dally go pick up a couch and a few other things at the thrift store. You need furniture, after all. You see a small selection of mattresses in a back corner and pause. You need to replace that filthy, lumpy thing you'd slept on back in the old place. Dally comes up behind you, follows your gaze. You glance up at him, but his expression is unreadable.

"No room left in the truck," he says finally. "I'll have it delivered when I get home from work tomorrow."

You nod, swallowing down a lump in your throat. You don't touch or talk as you get back into the truck. You hardly exchange any words as you carry the beat-up old couch up to your new apartment, or any of the other secondhand furniture you bought.

You are sick and tired of this stillness, this silence. You want to scream, you want to punch Dally, you want to punch yourself. You want to throw things and cry and storm out of the apartment, and maybe Dally will follow after you. Or maybe he won't. Either way, it's better than this not knowing.

"You know, Dallas," you say softly-- it's always 'Dallas' now, not 'Dally', and you're not sure when that happened- "Maybe it would be better to get two mattresses tomorrow."

Dally opens his mouth, closes it, and frowns. "Johnny, what do you-"

"Eight months, Dally. Eight months and I haven't said anything. I haven't done anything. I can't keep my hopes up like this anymore." Your voice cracks a little, but you're keeping calm. You can't be angry with him. This is just as much your fault as his. "I love you, Dallas. And I'll still love you if you want a new lover. You're my best friend. But I'm not going to keep clinging to this hope that we can have somethin' good if you don't-"

"Johnny, it's not like that!" He insists. He gets up from the couch and takes a step toward you, but you draw back, and he stops.

You don't notice you're crying until you feel the tears drip onto your shirt. Frustrated, you wipe at the tears. "Don't lie to me, Dallas. If it's not like that, tell me what it is like."

He's at a loss for words again. Then he closes the distance between the two of you and cups your face in his hands, wipes away your tears with his thumbs. This is the most intimate you've been since you left Tulsa.

"Johnnycake, I don't know," Dally admits quietly. "Baby, don't cry. Come here. I love you, too. I do, okay?" He wraps his arms around you and holds you to his chest and you sob. You haven't cried in a long time, and you're embarrassed, but Dally doesn't mind. He holds you and shushes you, and that makes you cry even more. Dally is holding you. He loves you.

"I keep waiting," he says finally, still holding you close. He sounds close to tears, himself. "I keep waiting for you to leave, like everyone else does. I didn't, I don't wanna get close, 'cause everyone leaves eventually, you know? It's just how it is. That's why. That's why I..."

You push away from him and stare up into his eyes incredulously. Then you draw back your hand and do something you never would've imagined you could ever do.

You slap him across the face.

Dally looks shocked for a moment, then he laughs, rubbing at his cheek. "I guess I deserved that," he admits.

You surge forward again and pull him down into an angry, passionate kiss, and you just stand there for a few moments like that. When you pull back, you're still just as angry. "Don't you ever-- don't you ever speak to me like that again, Dallas Winston! You're all I have. You're all I care about. I love you more than I love myself, you know that?!" You hiss furiously, and he's smiling even though you're madder than Hell. "If I was gonna leave you, I would've done months ago. Don't you keep pushing me away, Dally. It's only hurtin' us both. Glory, you're an idiot and a half!"

His hands slide into your hair and he kisses you again, and you're still pissed, but you're losing steam. He slides one hand down to the small of your back and pulls you closer, and you melt into the embrace.

The new mattress is delivered the next day, and as soon as the delivery men are gone, Dally is pressing you down into it, whispering about christening the new apartment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> again, didn't read before posting, but. here ya go. making it entirely angst was too sad, so have a happy ending.

**Author's Note:**

> based on amanda palmer's _the bed song_ , obviously. i recommend listening to it before or while reading.
> 
> something i started writing at 3AM because this fandom needs more fic and i love amanda palmer dearly. i didn't proofread before posting, so sorry if there are any errors.
> 
> hopefully will be finished within the next couple of days. may or may not have a happy ending. i haven't decided.


End file.
